


Stuck Behind the Moon

by Kellyscams



Series: we walk the sun [1]
Category: Actor RPF, Captain America (Movies) RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cat/Human Hybrids, Comfort, Dom/sub, Feels, Human Trafficking, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Trauma, kitten!seb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 17:24:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6248845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyscams/pseuds/Kellyscams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian's daring escape from his captors and Chris's attempt to begin rebuilding trust and comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuck Behind the Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [we walk the sun as we go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6143053) by [luninosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luninosity/pseuds/luninosity). 



> this is a prequel to [we walk the sun as we go](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6143053).

It’s dark where he is. Wherever that is. Dark and cold, and a chill slithers over his naked body. Sebastian ignores the shiver that runs through him as he keeps struggling with the lock of his cage. _The_ cage. Not _his_ cage. _The_ cage. It’s small and cramped, only allowing enough room for Sebastian to be curled up or crouched on his hands and knees. Like maybe it was once used for a big dog or similar sized animal. There’s a whole wall of them, though he’s currently the only occupant. A hard lump presses at his throat with such a thought. Have there been others kept here like him? More than one at a time?

Sebastian shakes the thought away and concentrates on the lock. He’s going to get out of here. Get back to fresh air and sunshine and cups of seasonal flavored coffee pressed warmly between his two hands. A gingerbread latte sounds like heaven right now. For a moment, Sebastian forgets about his chore and sinks into the thought of warmth pouring through him as the taste pools on his tongue and slips down his throat. The last time he had one Chris knocked it over before he could even have two sips of the thing. 

Chris. Kind-hearted, goofball Chris. With big, strong hands that hold Sebastian close and push him to his knees and leave marks all over his body and keep him safe. A voice rich with so many summers at Boston harbor and Fenway Park that has claimed Sebastian as his in dominance and love. So much love. Chris. He’s got to get back to Chris. 

Sebastian forces himself away from warm coffee daydreams and back to this dark, cold place where he’s kept in a cage. He gets back to work. Can’t afford to let his captor’s first -- and possibly only -- mistake go to waste. Surely the ones who have him locked in here didn’t notice the paperclips Sebastian managed to swipe off the desk during today’s examination. Even if they knows a few are missing, Sebastian doubts he’ll be suspected of the crime. The drugs they’ve been pumping through him make everything hazy and fuzzy. He’s fighting with every ounce of strength he has to stay awake to do this. 

Sebastian’s not a crime fighter or a secret agent or anything of the sort. But he _is_ a writer. And as such is chock full of seemingly useless information. Like, how to pick a lock, for instance. He’s even practiced before just to get it correct. Sebastian’s lucky that the lock is an old manual one and not a Print Lock. The only way to open them is with the right fingerprint or overriding the program. Technology at its finest.

There’s no telling how long he’s been at it. His arms are starting to get sore and there’re cramps in his hands. Whatever drugs they’ve given him are trying their best to work and put him to sleep. Sebastian’s eyes cross and uncross as he attempts to stay focused. The bars only allow for his fingers to slip between them. They dig into his skin hard enough that there will be bruises. Sebastian ignores the pain and continues working with the paperclip.

“ _Shit_ ,” he mutters when his fingers fumble and the thing falls to the ground with a tiny thud. It lands next to the other one he dropped earlier. They almost touch. Almost. Not quite. 

Sebastian pulls his shaky hands away from door of the cage and tries not to be ill. There’s a sob in his throat, but he only lets a tiny bit out. As much as he wants to smother his face in his hands and curl into a ball and weep, he can’t. He doesn’t have time. Sebastian doesn’t know when they’ll be back again and they said something about him being almost ready for auction. He has no idea what that means and he doesn’t want to find out. There’s one more paperclip and the one he’s been using for tension is still in the lock. He can do this. He can. 

Sucking in a deep breath, Sebastian forces the tears stinging his eyes away and unfolds the last paperclip with trembling hands. It takes a few tries to get it into the lock. He keeps missing. That’s what happens when you start seeing things in doubles, he thinks.

He doesn’t want to think. Doesn’t want to feel. Wants to be home. Needs to get home. If he was at home, maybe he and Chris would’ve had a few drinks together. The taste of beer would touch his lips whenever Chris kissed him. Chris would make a joke, probably bordering on inappropriate, and then blush and laugh. His hand would be at the back of Sebastian’s neck. Possessive and adoring. His lips would be trailing down the length of Sebastian’s spine. He’d be teasing. That merciless teasing that has Sebastian wriggling about and begging for more. His backside would be sore. Either from Chris’s hand or belt or maybe one of their toys. Chris’s voice would be melting into the very marrow of Sebastian’s bones with sweet praise and love as it anchors him back to the world. He…

A small click echoes through the room so loudly it startles Sebastian. Fear shoots through him as he throws himself away from the cage’s door. They’re back. They’re going to take him for more procedures or that auction they spoke of and Sebastian is too late. Once they see what he’s been up to they’ll switch the lock and then what? Sebastian doesn’t know. 

But there aren’t any voices. No footsteps. No other indication that anyone is coming at all. Breaths hard and heavy, Sebastian eases back to the bars and peers out as far as he can, and despite how dark it is, he can actually see quite a lot. A lot more than he could a few days ago. His new ears twitch before staying perfectly still and alert atop his head as they search for any other sounds. Nothing. Then what was… Sebastian gasps. His heart leaps up into his throat as he slips his index finger between the bars one last time. And flicks the lock to the ground. 

Tears fill his eyes again. Sebastian is almost too afraid to try, but he pushes against the door, and when it opens the tears fall. He wipes them away, remembering too late about the whiskers. Two in the right cheek, three in the left. Just the slightest touch to them hurts and he winces and swears as the back of his hand brushes across his right cheek. 

Carefully, quietly, Sebastian crawls out of the cage. The tail behind him swishes and flicks the door and makes it hit against the cage next to the one Sebastian’s gotten out of. Sebastian freezes. Everything sounds so much louder when he’s trying to be quiet. The sound seems to go unnoticed and Sebastian flies to his feet to run for the door. 

His whole body feels loose and unsteady. He even bumps into the wall more than once as he keeps losing his balance. The ground is cold and hard as he sprints across it. His heart pounds frantically against his chest when he reaches the door. He spits out a string of swears in several different languages when he finds it locked. From the outside. 

Sebastian leans up against it. This can’t be the only way out. There has to be another door or a window perhaps. His eyes scan for another escape route. This is the first time he’s gotten a good look around. Usually he’s just in that cage or strapped to a gurney as he’s lead from this place to the operating room. 

Now that he can really look around, he appears to be in some sort of warehouse. Old and abandoned. There _are_ windows but they’re much too high for Sebastian’s use. There _is_ , however, a flight of stairs that leads to an office. Where there’s an office, there might be a phone. Or a computer. Technology of some sort. 

Slowly counting to five, and with Chris’s loving face in mind, Sebastian dashes for the stairs, trips up them three times, and finds the office door unlocked. No phone. But there’s a computer. Like everything else in this place it’s old. That doesn’t mean he can’t use it. Sebastian’s heart shatters when it won’t come on. He’s not going to give up. He will get out of here. Throwing himself to the floor, he crawls under the desk to see that the computer isn’t plugged in. His hand shakes so much that he needs to use the other one to steady it in order to stick the plug in the socket. 

Sebastian holds in a laugh as he gets to his knees to use the thing. It might be old, but it’s not completely obsolete yet so there’s still hope. He wipes his hand across the monitor to clear the dust away. And, for the first time since all this started, catches a glimpse of his reflection. It’s more of a shadow in the dark screen of the monitor. An outline of himself. But he can see. See the ears and the hand that reaches to touch them. The whiskers that jut out of his cheeks. Even the tip of the tail that swishes behind him. 

Bile stings in his throat. A cat then. Domestic, it seems. Sebastian’d figured as much, but he hadn’t been certain even if the tail should’ve been a dead giveaway. He presses his finger hard against his left his cheek. Uses the pain to push himself forward. Whatever they’ve done to him, for whatever reason, they’ll never pay if he doesn’t get out of here. And if he doesn’t get out of here, it might happen to someone else. Sebastian can’t let that happen. 

He pushes the power button and wipes the tears from his eyes when the soft hum rings clear in the ears that are able to pick up the sound. Sebastian forces his eyes to stay open as he touches his finger to the screen to open the communication app. Chris doesn’t have this one. Neither does his mom. Nor does Margarita or Chase or Charles or any of his friends. It’s for businesses. The only holonet message he can send is to those addresses already programmed into this system. With any luck, someone will watch it instead of deleting it as spam. 

The light of the holocamera comes on and cones around him. It’s now or never.

“H-hi.” His voice is rough and weak. It barely even sounds like him. “My… my name is Sebastian Stan. I was… taken… I don’t… I don’t know what the date is. A few days ago, maybe? I don’t know where I am. A warehouse, I think.” He sniffles. A shiver has him wrapping his arms around his body. “They’ve done things to me. Changed me.” Sebastian almost laughs as he points to the ears on his head. “This. I’m drugged, too.” No wonder he feels delirious enough to laugh in a moment like this. “Please, help me.” His voice cracks. He clenches his jaw to keep from losing himself now. “I don’t know where I am. They said something… about an… an auction. I don’t know… I…” Sebastian smiles softly as the tears begin to fall. “Mom, if they don’t get me in time… I love you. I’m so grateful for all the things you’ve ever given to me. I am who I am because of you. Tell Dad--” he can only hope she’ll know he means both biological and step “--that I love him. And Chris.” He can’t. He needs a moment to keep his face from crumpling. It happens anyway. “I’m sorry, Chris,” Sebastian whispers. “I’m so sorry.” He’s not sure why he’s apologizing, but the guilt is suddenly overwhelming. “I love you so much, Chris. Chris, you’re so strong. You can do anything. You’re the most incredible man I’ve had the privilege of knowing. Thank you for that.”

Lip quivering and cheeks tear-stained, Sebastian just stares at the holocamera for a moment longer before nodding to himself and reaching out to the screen to hit the stop button. The soft light surrounding him disappears and leaves him in the dim glow of the monitor once again. He selects the first address stored in the system and hits send. The hourglass that appears on the screen next is only up for about a heartbeat of a second, but Sebastian holds his breath until the green check mark appears, confirming the message has been sent.

The second it appears, every ounce of energy he’s been holding onto disappears. His weight is too much and falls out from under him. He can’t even will his body to hide under the desk before the world goes black around him. 

Sebastian sleeps. 

And wakes to hands on his shoulders. Not Chris’s hands like in his dreams. The wrong hands. They’re too thin and rough as they tug and pull at him. Sebastian hisses, a sound much more feline than human, and struggles against them. Claws extend out of his fingers, something he didn't even know he could do, and dig into unsuspecting skin. Someone shouts. There’s a voice saying his name. He doesn’t recognize it. Sebastian fights. He needs to get out of here. Needs to get home. He’s so weak and dizzy, the room spinning around him blindingly fast. He might throw up, he’s not sure. 

“ _No_ ,” he cries as he feels the prick to his side. A needle. Another needle to pump something into him again, and all the fight goes away. 

His head rests upon something soft. A hand -- still not Chris’s hand -- sits atop his head. Not rough. Soft and kind. There are legs. Legs all around him. 

And the sounds of sirens in the distance. 

~~

Chris has never been more fucking scared in his life than he is right now. Even during the past three days -- days filled with agonizing uncertainty and police interviews and press reports -- his fear never spiked this high. On his way to the hospital in a police cruiser gliding over the glistening city lights of New York. 

“We found him,” Agent Jackson had said over the phone about twenty minutes ago. “We’re taking him to New York Presbyterian.”

The highest rated hospital in the city. If Seb needs tending to then that’s the place to be. All the best doctors work there. Surgeons, too, but Chris feels nauseous thinking about that. 

“Is he okay?” Chris asked frantically as he dashed up to the rooftop patio where the cruiser was waiting for him. Two of Sam’s agents trailed behind him, one of them speaking to his key pad and starting the cruiser before they reached it. “He’s alive?”

“He’s alive.” There was a pause, and a million horrible things raced through Chris’s mind. “Just get here.”

“Agent Jackson--” 

“Just get here.”

 _He’s alive_. Chris tries to concentrate on those most important words. _He’s alive_. But alive doesn’t mean okay. Alive doesn’t mean not hurt. Alive doesn’t mean that the Sebastian they found is the Sebastian that was taken three days ago. 

Whatever it is, Chris’ll do whatever it takes to make Sebastian okay again. To help him in anyway he can. Keep him comfortable. Safe. The way he’d failed to do already. Chris will protect him for the rest of his life if he’ll allow such a luxury. If he can get to him. That’s all he wants right now. To get to Sebastian and see that it’s really him and feel him tucked safely in his arms. 

That’s what scares him the most. He’s been told they found Seb, but… what if it’s not him? What if it’s someone else or he… doesn’t make it in time for Chris to at least talk to him one last time? What if… what if…?

Chris holds on to those two important words before fear and panic become too much. _He’s alive_. 

When the cruiser lands, Chris is pushing the door up and open before it’s even turned off. One of the agents calls out for him as he bolts across the roof for the door. 

It’s not hard to find where Seb’s room is. There are reporters blocking his way through the halls of the surgical unit who make it even harder for Chris to get through, and FBI agents and local officers gather in front of one particular room. Sebastian Stan -- the up and coming screenwriter with a nine movie contract writing superhero movies for Marvel Pictures who always blushes and laughs awkwardly whenever his contract is brought up -- has been the talk of the town these few days. First with the rumors of scandal and drugs and sexual exploits. Then those few hours where Chris was the prime suspect. Until proof of foul play when Seb’s clothes were found spackled with blood in a dumpster three blocks from home and Chris’s alibi checked out. Because Chris’s meeting had run late and Seb went to grab dinner on his own. Maybe someday Sebastian can forgive him for that. 

As Chris approaches, he can hear some familiar voices. The first is Agent Jackson’s who’s been leading the investigation from the beginning and only warmed up to Chris after it was proved that he wasn’t involved. At least he seems to really care about Seb’s well being. Seb’s mom is the one who answers him and then asks is Sebastian is feeling up to talking. Her voice is soft and quiet like she’s been crying. Finally. Chris hasn’t seen her shed a tear once. The last voice is Seb’s, and Chris’s heart leaps for joy when he hears it. 

“ _Da, mamă_ ,” he says softly. “ _Sunt bine_.”

Tears flood through Chris’s eyes as he slowly steps into the room. He only catches a glimpse of Sebastian before he’s pulling the sheet over his face and screaming for Chris to go away. 

“Seb…”

“ _Nu_! Get out!” Sebastian throws himself into the pillows and makes a sound that Chris has never heard before. It doesn’t sound right. Doesn’t sound human. “Go away, Chris, _vă rog_.”

Before he even has a chance to react to the fact that Sebastian has kicked him out on sight, Chris is being ushered away by Agent Jackson and one of the doctors. Questions and confusion swirl through his head to form one numbing thought. Seb pleaded with him to leave. Seb kicked him out. Sebastian doesn’t want him in the same room. 

The doctor is saying things as they walk through halls filled with police and Agent Jackson is kind enough to throw his hand out in front of Chris’s face to keep the photographers from snapping his photo. Chris is led to a consultation room. It’s small and quiet and dim. The doctor asks the lights to brighten so they can see more. There’s a small, sympathetic couch against the wall that the doctor gestures to. Chris just stares at it. The couch looks back at him, understanding of his hesitation. How many people has it held while they receive bad news? 

“Mr. Evans, please,” says Agent Jackson, “have a seat.”

Chris does. If only to get this over and done with. Like a bandaid. He needs to find out what happened to Sebastian and what he can do to help. 

“What’s going on?” Chris asks. “Agent Jackson, you said--”

“That he was alive. And he is. But there are… complications that you need to be prepared for.” He looks to the doctor that’s sitting next to Chris. Chris hadn’t even realized he was there until he follows Agent Jackson’s gaze. “This is Dr. Ruffalo. He’s the leading doctor on Sebastian’s team.”

“Team? Wh-why is there a team?” Chris’s throat is too tight. “Why does Sebastian need a team?”

“Mr. Evans,” Dr. Ruffalo starts, “physically speaking, Sebastian’s doing better than expected. He’s a bit malnourished and pretty dehydrated and he’s suffered from some minor cuts and bruises that will be thoroughly treated. However--” And now Chris’s heart is beating in his throat. “Over the past three days, Sebastian has been subjected to forced genetic modifications. He…”

The rest of the world fades away and Chris can’t understand the words that are coming out of Dr. Ruffalo’s mouth anymore. He catches bits and pieces. _It’s permanent_. _He’s already gone through minor surgery_. _Instinct therapy. Physical therapy. Conventional therapy. Group therapy._

Gen mod. Sebastian was forced into gen mod. Fucking genetic modification. People are doing it more and more. It’s sorta all the rage right now. From puppy ears to vampire teeth to even mermaid tails. Some get it permanently while others play with it temporarily. Sebastian even joked not that long ago about getting temporary kitten ears to play as Chris’s kitten for a while. He’d been half serious, half kidding when he said it. But it would’ve been temporary and Seb’s choice. Not this way. Not like this. Not taken away from his friends and family and held captive and forced. 

The room has gotten too hot and it spins around Chris so fast he might fall over. The air in his lungs burns. Everything is tight. Too tight. Too much. It’s all too much. He hasn’t slept properly in almost eighty hours and the only thing in his stomach is coffee.

“Mr. Evans?”

There’s a hand on his shoulder. Chris can’t tell if it’s Dr. Ruffalo or Agent Jackson’s, but it’s keeping him upright. Dr. Ruffalo slips a vitals cuff over Chris’s wrist and within seconds the machine is telling him Chris’s heart rate is too fast, his blood pressure is too high, and breathing is abnormal.

“Mr. Evans, you’re having a panic attack,” Dr. Ruffalo says. “Do you have an O2 inhaler?”

He does. Chris is already going through his pockets looking for it. He doesn’t miss days of breathing into a paper bag. Nowadays, the pocket sized oxygen dispensers prescribed by doctors are a lot more convenient, and just one pump from it is enough to get Chris breathing right again. 

“Why…” The room is still spinning around him, but Chris needs to ask. “Why doesn’t he want to see me?”

“He does want to see you,” Dr. Ruffalo assures him. “He’s been asking for you. It’s just that he wasn’t ready for _you_ to see _him_.” The hand on his shoulder squeezes. Dr. Ruffalo’s then. “I need you to listen very carefully, Mr. Evans…”

“Chris. Chris is fine.”

If this man is going to be telling him all about the horrible things the love of his life has been through, it feels like maybe they should at least be on first name terms. 

“Chris.” Dr. Ruffalo nods. “Your boyfriend has gone through a very traumatic experience. There’s going to be a long period of adjustment. Probably post traumatic stress on top of typical gen mod therapy. Sebastian is not just a human anymore. He’s a feline hybrid.”

The term sends a chill down Chris’s spine. Hybrid. Sebastian is a hybrid. 

“You’re telling me, Seb’s… half human, half… cat.”

“Actually, kitten is more accurate.”

“Is there a difference?”

He nods. “Slight, but yes. He’ll have more of a pull to his baser instincts now and heats will be more intense.”

“Heats?” Chris’s blood runs cold. He’s read up on hybrid heats before and the gray area between consensual sex and rape it can cause. “That’s… he’s gonna…”

“I’m afraid so. The work done on his genes is very extensive. There’s no reversing it, but with therapy and practice, it’ll get easier for him to control his new instincts.”

Chris can’t have another panic attack. Not now. He needs to keep it together and be strong for Sebastian. His brave, sweet, wonderful Sebastian who’s gone through more in the past three days than most people go through their whole lives. 

Still, he leans his elbows over his knees and hangs his head. “Who would do such a thing?”

Now Agent Jackson steps forward and pulls a picture out of his pocket. He hands it to Chris. Chris takes it. His stomach drops. 

“Do you know this man, Chris?” Agent Jackson asks. 

Yes. Yes, he does. In a manner of speaking. 

“A few… a few weeks ago Seb and I were walking home from dinner.” They’d gone out for pizza. Pizza and beer. _Terribly American_ , Seb had teased before agreeing. “Seb joked about getting cat ears. This man--” He waves the picture in his hand “--heard him and started following us. Started saying how great Seb would look and that I could make a fortune if I,” Chris throws up air quotes, “whored him out. Is he… is this…?”

The guy was lucky that Chris didn’t knock him out. He was lucky that Seb was preoccupied with trying to get Chris not to knock him out otherwise he’d’ve done it himself. If this guy had anything to do with what happened, he’ll be lucky if Chris doesn’t kill him. 

“A middle man.” Agent Jackson takes the picture back. “But, yes. I doubt this will be any consolation to what’s been done, but thanks to Sebastian’s efforts to escape, we’ve managed to shut down one of the country's biggest trafficking ring.”

“Trafficking,” he repeats. Chris feels even more nauseous now. He might even put his fist through a fucking wall. 

“That’s right. These groups abduct people and force them to undergo gen mod then auction them off to the highest bidder.”

Chris’s stomach hurts. They were going to sell him. They turned Sebastian into a kitten hybrid so they could sell him to some rich piece of shit to do who knows what to him. 

Agent Jackson goes on to tell him that they’ve already made several arrests of some very powerful people who were involved with this ring and that a few of them are cooperating in taking down others. Apparently, this particular _auction_ \-- Chris feels sick every time that word comes up -- would have featured ten hybrids, but because of Seb, nine of them are here in the hospital with their families. One of them, well, one of them didn’t make it through the last procedure they tried to do. 

“When…” Chris clears his throat. “When do you think I can see him?”

The answer to that turns out to be within an hour. Which gives Chris enough time to call his mom who flew down from Boston the day it happened. And his brother, who flew in from Los Angeles a day later. His mom tells him they won’t need to worry about meals for at least a month. That she’ll be making enough for them to keep frozen and keep them full for weeks. Scott says that Sebastian was always more cat than human. Then laughs awkwardly and tells Chris that he loves them both and he’ll do whatever he can to help. They both assure him that they’ll call his sisters and father to let them know what’s going on. Chris makes a few calls to some of their friends, but leaves out the details. 

He’s still on the phone with Scarlett, her holographic image showing the Eiffel Tower outside the windows behind her, when Dr. Ruffalo tells him Sebastian wants to talk to him. Scarlett asks that he pass her love along to Seb before they hang up. Chris promises he will and then takes in a deep breath before heading back to the room Seb kicked him out of. 

They’ve warned Chris that Sebastian wants to talk, but he’s still unsure about Chris seeing so it shouldn’t be all that shocking to peer into through the door’s window and find the curtains pulled all around the bed. Chris can just make out a shadow of a person behind the curtains. He can see the faint outline of the ears that now sit on top of Sebastian’s head. 

It occurs to him then how numb he feels. After three days of heightened everything -- fear, worry, panic as every worst case and horrible scenario played out in his mind day and night -- Chris hasn’t found the relief he’d been searching for by having Sebastian found, and alive at that. There are still so many unanswered questions. So many worries. So many more steps to take. 

The first one, it seems, starts with a step into the room where Sebastian waits for him in a hospital bed behind closed curtains. Chris takes it. Opens the door and crosses into the room. Out in the hall there are still cops. Down a ways there are reporters still lingering. There are doctors and nurses and other patients that haven’t been cleared out of this area. Chris seals them all out. Finds himself in a world where it’s only him and Sebastian. 

“S-Seb?” Chris says over the soft hums and beeps of the machines he’s hooked up to.. 

The shadow behind the curtains moves slightly before, “Hi, Chris.”

Hearing his voice is like a warm anesthetic pumping through his veins and moving him out from under a mountain of seemingly endless pain. Sebastian, like Agent Jackson said, is alive. Changed. Different. But alive. Still here to see another day. 

There’s a chair right outside the curtains which Chris assumes is meant for him. He slowly walks over to it and sits. 

“How are you?” He winces at his own stupidity. “Don’t answer that. Stupid fucking question. Um. Uh…”

“I can answer,” Sebastian murmurs. “You meant: am I okay?”

“Yeah. Sorta.” Chris trails his fingers over the thin fabric between them. “Are you in pain?”

Seb is doing the same thing with his fingers. They touch briefly before Sebastian pulls his hand away again.

“A little. My cheeks hurt.” No. No that’s wrong. This is _all wrong_. Sebastian shouldn’t be in pain. Not now, not ever. “But they gave me morphine. I feel a little silly.”

“Silly’s…” Chris can’t find the words. Too much noise in his brain. “Good?”

“ _Da_. Silly’s good. Chris?”

“Yeah?” He turns in his seat. Makes sure he’s facing Seb even if they can’t see each other. “I’m here.”

There’s a pause. Then a whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Chris almost rips the curtain down. “Why’re you sorry, Sebastian? You didn’t--”

“You wanted me to carry pepper spray. I said you were being paranoid.”

That’s almost word for word of that conversation. Chris had listened to an article about missing people and abductions. It gave him all sorts of panicky ideas. Chris asked Seb how he’d feel about carrying a can of pepper spray. And, like Seb just reminded him, he’d said Chris was being paranoid. 

“This isn’t your fault, baby.” Chris is not exactly a violent man, but he could rip apart everyone involved in doing this. Happily. “You didn’t do this.”

Soft sound comes from the other side of the curtain. Something caught between a broken gasp and a soft mew. Seb is trying not to cry. Or _is_ crying, but he’s trying to keep Chris from _knowing_ that he’s crying. 

“Seb, please…” It takes every ounce of willpower Chris has not to open this curtain. “Don’t cry. No, I mean…” Shit, no, that’s not fair to ask of him. “You can cry. Of course you can cry. Just… it’s not your fault. It’s those _fucking assholes_ who… sorry. I’m sorry. I just…” Don’t know what to say. _I don’t know how to fix this_ , Chris thinks. 

Uselessness descends upon him like an ugly, scratchy blanket. He’s never felt so useless in his life. He wants to pick up all the broken pieces and put them back together again. Chris’ll use glue and tape and any other adhesive he can and gladly endure cutting his hands open and bleeding on shards of glass if that means Sebastian can be whole again. 

“Chris,” Sebastian whispers. “This is… There will be a lot of adjustments. Changes, I think. If that’s too much for you--”

“Hey. No.” Chris touches the curtain and must startle Seb. He can hear a gasp and maybe the start of a hiss. The ears, he can see, push back flat against the top of Seb’s head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to… I’m not leaving you, Sebastian.” Not unless he plans on severing half his heart and letting Seb take it with him. “Whatever it is, we’ll work through it.”

Chris is not going to give up on Seb because of something horrible that’s been done to him. Honestly, he can barely remember his life before the sweet sarcasm and slightly clumsy and bashful intelligence that Sebastian brought to it. Sebastian lit a fire inside of him, and Chris planned on spending the rest of his life showing his gratitude to him for that. There had even been contemplations of a collaring. A private ceremony where Sebastian would agree to belong to Chris and Chris would vow to take care of him in every way possible for the rest of his life. 

That’s probably out of the question now. The collaring anyway. After what’s happened, he can’t imagine Seb would be too eager to strap a collar around his neck even just for play. The rest of his life part? Chris is not going to take back. He means that with all his heart. 

“You might not…” Chris can hear the struggle as Seb tastes the words and then forces them out. “...like me anymore. They changed me.”

Chris’s mouth fills with so many different answers to that, each one of them vehemently denying any possibility of that happening. He snaps his jaw closed though, to keep them all in. Chris knows the strangling sensation of illogical fears. Of dizzying worries and too many thoughts at one time that steal the breath from his lungs. 

After a drawn out moment, Chris says the first thing that comes to his head that isn’t dismissive of Seb’s fears.

“Can you still be sarcastic?” 

“I…” The question sounds completely ludicrous when hearing it with his own ears so he can’t imagine what it must sound like to Seb. “I suppose? I haven’t exactly tried.”

“And coffee?” Chris asks. “Do you still like coffee?”

“I had some before.” Chris doesn’t have to see Seb’s face to know it’s crinkled up in disgust. “It was completely deplorable.” 

“Do you still trip over nothing?”

“I don’t know. Morphine, you see, is not exactly ideal for testing my equilibrium.”

Chris chuckles for the first time in three days and it feels so fucking good that it’s because of something Seb’s said. Sebastian. Sitting right behind the curtain Chris looks at. 

“You still sound like you.”

A pause. Then, “Oh.” His fingers are at the curtain again. This time, when Chris brings his up to meet them, Seb doesn’t pull away. “Sarcasm and coffee and clumsiness. Is that what I am to you?”

“You’re everything to me, Sebastian.” 

Chris’s fingers trail to the edge of the curtain. “Please?”

“I…” A hand lands over his and Chris catches just the glimpse of claws retracting into fingertips. “Not yet. I’m… _nu inca_ , please…”

That hand stays over Chris’s. It looks different, Chris can’t deny that, but it feels the same. Still makes something warm and splendid rush through his whole body. His thumb brushes over Sebastian’s soft skin. 

“Okay,” he whispers. “I won’t… rush you.” He closes his eyes and could kick himself for not saying the most important thing yet. “I love you, Sebastian. I’m so…” He takes a moment to hold in tears. This is not the time to cry. Sebastian needs him to be strong for him. Trust him. Tears won’t do that. It’s difficult -- Chris still tears up over Disney movies and Hallmark commercials -- but only one tear escapes. He quickly wipes it away. “I’m so happy to hear your voice.”

“I--” Seb’s voice cracks. He clears his throat and a soft hacking sound comes out with it. “I heard you. When I was there. In my head. You kept telling me that I was strong. That I was your good boy. You made me strong, Chris.”

A tremble runs down Chris’s spine as he attempts to keep the floodgates closed. He can only manage a whisper when he says, “You were always strong.”

Sebastian makes that strange, pained sound again. “I love you, too, Chris. But--”

“No buts,” Chris breathes. “Please, no buts.”

“--I’m not the same. What if… what if you can’t love me like this.”

“I love you, Sebastian. I love you.”

The only response Chris gets to that is Sebastian pulling his hand back again and then silence. That silence hurts. Chris so badly wants Sebastian to tell him that they’ll do this together. That he believes Chris when he swears his love is not going to change because of this. And if he doesn’t, Chris wishes he’d just let him hold him until he does. 

When the silence just becomes too much, Chris says, “Do you remember our first date?”

Seb shifts a bit in the bed. “The one you were an hour late for?”

“Actually, I wasn’t an hour late.”

“You were too.” Seb sounds outrageously offended. “You showed up as I was leaving. You almost gave me a concussion when you shoved the door open as I was trying to go through it.”

“That’s not exactly what happened.” Chris smiles softly to himself. He’s never told Seb this before. “I showed up on time. Remember you said I’d recognize you because you’d have that purple scarf? The silk one?”

He had it on, too, loosely around his neck. Tight black jeans and a gray shirt that hugged perfectly around his body and that tan leather jacket. He stole Chris’s breath away.

“You said only I could pull off wearing it.” There’s a smile in Seb’s voice now. “After you saw it on me.”

“I still stand by that.” He does. Sebastian can make any style look astounding. “But I… I saw you from the window and watched as the hostess brought you to that booth in the back and you looked so beautiful that I was too _nervous_ to go in. I just watched as you… sipped your water and made small talk with the waitstaff and I just… fell in love with you. Right then and there. I knew I loved you. That I needed to spend the rest of my life with you.” 

Chris heart beats with the memory of falling in love with Sebastian that day. It was like the world faded to just that one person in the restaurant. Every wisp of what he was made of pulling towards that lovely creature waiting for him. 

“Chris…”

“Then you got up. You put your jacket back on and ran your fingers through your hair before putting that beret back on your head. You were gonna leave and I got so scared that I’d never see you again.”

“That’s when you came charging in like a bull?”

“And you let me put ice on your head even though I was the asshole who made you wait an hour and then hit you with a door.” Chris sighs. Telling Sebastian this now probably isn’t helping at all. Love at first sight isn’t exactly a cure for someone who’s afraid they won’t be loved after they’ve been physically changed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… I dunno. I just… love you, Seb. So fucking much.”

“That’s all true, Chris? What you said?”

“Every word of it. Yes.”

More silence folds over them, the night breathing in and out the unease that it’s made from. Until Sebastian’s fingers curl around the curtain… and slowly pull it open. 

Chris tries not to react, he really does, but it’s hard not to gasp a little. He’s seen gen mod done on other people. In magazines and movies, out on the streets and even places like the grocery store. A few of their neighbors have even gotten things done. But it’s still startling to see what’s been done to Sebastian.

He keeps his chin ducked down, but Chris’s eyes go to the ears on Seb’s head first anyway. They’re almost the same shade as his hair; maybe a shade darker. They look soft. The right one twitches a bit as Chris’s gaze trails down to the tail wrapped around Seb’s waist and resting in his lap. His hand runs over it, the tip flicking a bit as he does. When Chris goes to slip his fingers under Seb’s chin, Seb shies away with a quiet hiss. He blushes at the sound like he’s embarrassed he made it.

“Sorry,” Seb whispers. “I can’t… it just happens.”

“That’s okay.” Chris swallows down the hurt that Seb doesn’t want him to touch him. Changes. Adjustments. This is just one of them. “Will you look at me?”

Sebastian takes in a deep breath before lifting his head and slowly looking up at Chris. His eyes. They changed his eyes. They’re… not very human looking anymore. It’s his pupils. They’re thin and vertical, slightly diamond shaped. But… they’re still that same unique color. That glistening shade between crisp icy oceans and warm summer skies. Despite the change, those are still Sebastian’s eyes looking at him. 

Chris is swept away in the enchantment of them. Of fairy tale princes and love stories and the science fiction lure of far off places. 

Tears hug the corners of Chris’s eyes now. Tears for so many emotions. Too many to sort through, but Chris smiles. There’s Sebastian. Right in front of him and he’s looking at him and he’s alive. 

And Chris falls in love all over again.

“Hey, you.”

A tiny smile touches Sebastian’s lips. His fingers graze by his cheeks where there are stitches in five different spots. 

“They took the whiskers out. They were too sensitive. They hurt.”

Dr. Ruffalo said something about Seb already having minor surgery done. That must have been it. They gave him whiskers. Chris has never seen that done before, but the sensitivity must be why. Cat’s whiskers, or so he’s read, are sensitive to touch. They need to be since they’re a cat’s key to spatial awareness. Chris wonders if having them removed will affect Seb’s spatial awareness. 

“Does it… feel better?” Chris holds back a roll of his eyes. Better? How can anything feel better? “I mean…”

“ _Da_. It does. Yes.” He blinks his eyes. Slowly, and Chris wonders for a moment if that’s because of the morphine. But the blink is followed by a blush. “Sorry. I’m… what was I… oh.” He brushes his fingers across his cheek again. “It feels better, yes.”

“That’s good. Well, not good. None of this… not that…” Chris shakes his head and gives up with that one. Seb grins softly. “You have a tail.”

They both look down at it at the same time. Like the ears on his head, the tail is about the same color as his hair and looks just as soft. Maybe softer. Once attention is called to it, it curls around Seb a bit more. 

“Yes,” Sebastian whispers. “Does that… bother you, Chris?” 

“What? No!” Add that to the list of reasons he wants to kick himself for being so damn insensitive. “It looks… soft. Is it soft?” 

Seb’s hand is still running over his tail. His touch is light enough that it doesn’t disturb the dark fur there, but the tip of it still twitches. 

“Soft,” he repeats and then nods. “Yes.” He pulls his hand away from his tail and it slowly rises away from his lap. Towards Chris. “Care to find out for yourself?”

He makes his offer casually. Like asking if Chris wants to pet his tail is as normal as asking him to take him by the hand. His voice, however, says otherwise. There’s a sense of uncertainty attached to every word. The fear of the unfamiliar and bizarre predicament they’ve found themselves in. 

“You’re sure?”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to. He does -- very much. Chris wants every little piece that Sebastian will give to him. They may not have said the words, _for better or worse_ , but Chris means them in every sense of their definitions. He wants to know every smile, every scar, every laugh, every hurt feeling. He always has. But on Seb’s time. Always Seb’s time. He needs Sebastian to feel secure and safe in handing over whatever bit of himself he can. One piece at time for Chris to hold and cherish and protect in the folds of his heart. 

This might be different, but it’s also no different at all. 

But Seb looks up at him, eyes deep and swirling with trust anew, and nods. “ _Da_ , Chris. Yes. I need… yes. Your hands. _Vă rog_. Please.”

His hands. Oh god he -- Sebastian wants his hands. Maybe in some other lifetime this would be nothing. His boyfriend, his lover, his submissive, wanting his touch would be just a normal occurrence. Everyday. Now, it means so much more. An acquiesce to take the next step on this new road paved by another’s hands. A step Sebastian’s chosen to take _with_ Chris. 

Chris doesn’t try his voice this time. It won’t work if he did. Instead, he slowly lifts a hand and brings it down to gently pet once along Sebastian’s tail. The second -- instant, heartbeat, breath -- his palm makes contact with the dark fur beneath it, the tail shudders, and Chris yanks his hand away. 

“I’m sorry, did I--”

“No, no, you didn’t…” Sebastian sighs. 

When he lifts his hand, the tubes and wires that attach him to the machines next to the bed snag under the blankets. Seb huffs and with it comes out a trill of a noise that’s a mix of a kitten-like cry and a hiss. And it’d actually be really fucking cute if the circumstances were different. 

“Here,” Chris murmurs. “Let me--”

“No, please.” He’s already untangling the blankets from the wires, swatting a bit at them as well. “I can do it.” 

Chris backs off a bit. Sebastian might need to do little things on his own right now just to prove to himself that he can. If that’s the case, Chris won’t stand in his way. More importantly, he’ll be there to catch him and help him stand on his own if he needs that, too. 

When Seb frees himself from the mischievous items, he says, “I was only trying to tell you that you didn’t do anything. It… the thing…” He sighs and pinches between his eyes. “My tail. I don’t really, I mean, I can.” Seb lifts his tail back up again as if to show Chris what he’s trying to say. “A little.”

“Sure.” Chris nods. Gets it. He thinks. “You can move it, but it also…”

“Moves on instinct,” he finishes for him. “I guess.” Sebastian peers up at Chris through his eyelashes. They seem almost longer now, but Chris can’t tell for sure. There’s a soft shadow under his eyes. “You can…” He flicks his tail. “If you want.”

“I want,” Chris says, “anything you’ll let me have.” He strokes his hand along the offered tail. Soft. Just like Seb told him. “It feels nice.” The end of it wraps lightly around Chris’s wrist like a soft hug. “You like that?”

Seb’s eyes are closed now as he leans back against the hospital bed’s pillows. His left ear twitches a little and he licks his lips before looking back at Chris again. 

“ _Da_. Yes, Chris. It feels… strange.” His tail tightens around Chris’s wrist when Chris goes to move it away. “Not you. The way it moves.” A deep blush fills his cheeks. “My tail, I mean.”

“I know what you mean,” Chris says quietly. 

Still resting back in the bed, Sebastian’s head rolls a bit to the side as though it’s getting too difficult to keep his gaze on Chris.

“It seems they were unable to clean my dirty mind,” he murmurs with a drowsy smile on his mouth. 

“I’m glad,” Chris replies and, like he’s done so many times before, places his hand softly atop Seb’s head. 

Sebastian jerks away, his eyes popping open and his claws swiping at Chris’s wrist. Chris is able to move away before Seb’s hand makes contact and then they both freeze. The air runs cold around them and Chris trembles with the knowledge that he’s made Seb nervous enough to take a swipe at him. And yet Sebastian looks at him as though he’s guilty of a most heinous crime. 

Panic swims in the pools of his bright eyes. Seb’s ears fall flat against the top of his head and Chris is trying to tell him that it’s okay, that he’s fine, he didn’t do anything wrong, but he’s not sure if the words are coming out right and his hand is just foolishly hanging in the air between them. He wants so badly to just reach out and pet him and praise him and tell him he’s a good boy. Still Chris’s good boy. Always. 

“I won’t hurt you, Sebastian.” The words just come out. Clumsy and unthought of, and more follow those. “I know I did. By not… being there when you needed me. When you needed me most. I’m so… sorry, Seb. So sorry. But I’ll never let it…” He can’t make that promise. He would. Chris would promise Sebastian the moon if he thought it possible. “I’m going to make it up to you. If you’ll let me.”

He forces himself to stop there, the words gathering and squeezing in his chest. 

Slowly, gradually, Seb’s ears lift again and his eyes begin to drift to the hand between them. He looks at it like he both wants it and fears it. Chris realizes this needs to be Sebastian’s decision. Touch -- soft caresses and strong grips and even the occasional roughness -- as much as Seb’s always craved it, is clearly something they need to go slow with. So Chris raises his hand at bit more and slowly moves it towards him. Stops a few inches before his palm would gently fix itself to his cheek. The rest is up to Sebastian. 

Chris waits.

He’s surprised at how much it hurts to wait, and the longer he does, the more he’s not sure if he can handle the answer. Chris makes himself look at Seb watching his hand. 

And it’s almost too much to contain his joy when Sebastian slowly leans forward -- hesitant and nervous -- until his brow bumps against the palm held out to him. Once. Twice. Then, he nuzzles more into it and Chris fits his hand over that spot, his thumb brushing against the soft locks of Sebastian’s hair. At the same time, Seb reaches out for Chris. His hand clutches the end of Chris’s shirt to pull him in closer -- and he abruptly starts crying. Loses whatever strength he had to keep all this in as loose tears land with painful accuracy in Chris’s heart. 

Chris flings his arms around him. Offers whatever useless words stumble out of his mouth. Words of comfort, of love, of babbling praises about strength and bravery and perfection. Sebastian just cries harder. Chris doesn’t know what to do, whether he’s helping or just making things worse, and settles for just holding him. Seb cries big, wet tears that steadily increase to an ugly bawling.

He wraps Sebastian in his arms. In a cage of limbs and love to give him whatever protection from scars that have just begun to make their mark across Sebastian’s soul. 

Sebastian can’t seem to get close enough to him. Not until he’s curled up on Chris’s lap and sobbing into Chris’s shirt and holding onto Chris like he’s afraid to let go. Afraid Chris will disappear if he does. All Chris can think to do is stroke a hand gently over soft hair. He doesn’t know what to say, if words at all with heal or cause more pain. 

Sebastian keeps trying to heave in deep breaths, tries for words himself -- manages one or two -- but just chokes on them and sobs harder. Chris just keeps him tucked safely in his arms, offering what little solace that might bring. Inside, he’s flailing, looking for something to hold onto to keep his balance and just grasping at air. 

After some time, after painful gasps and anguished tears and a large wet spot on Chris’s shirt, Chris starts to get worried. Seb is bawling so hard that Chris is afraid he might hurt himself, but every time he attempts to say something, his voice cracks. It occurs to him, by the third try, that he’s crying along with Seb. There’s nothing left for Chris to do but bury his tears in soft, silky hair. 

More time passes, and as it does, Sebastian’s sobbing begins to ebb out. The tears gradually dry up and his breathing becomes a bit more even, though every few breaths he gasps on a hiccup or two. 

“Seb?” Chris whispers. Finds his own voice weak and hoarse, but at least starting to work again. “Sebastian?”

When he gets no answer, his fear spikes to levels he’s never felt before. Chris unthinkingly presses fingers to the side of Seb’s neck. Feels a pulse. Steady, maybe even a little faster than it should be. Sebastian, he realizes, has cried himself to sleep right there in Chris’s arms. On his lap. His tail tucked between them both. 

“Sebastian,” Chris murmurs with what little strength he has left. And with it, he’ll make this vow. A vow he can only hope sleeping ears will kindly deliver to a beating heart. “I love you.” He presses his lips to Seb’s head. “I’ll never fail you again.”

In his sleep, Sebastian draws in another ragged breath and releases this one with a heavy sigh. It sounds… almost cleansing. His hand lifts to his face and the back of it rubs across damp eyelashes. He rests that hand upon Chris’s chest as he eyes slowly begin to open. Lifting his head, Seb looks blearily at Chris. Blinks once. Twice. And then focuses on him.

“Chris?”

“Yeah,” Chris whispers. “It’s me.”

Sebastian yawns. Shakes his head at the end of it and says, “You’re here. Still.”

Petting a him again -- without any resistance from Seb this time -- Chris nods and kisses the tip of his nose. 

“Of course. Nowhere else I’d be.” He cradles the back of his head and guides him back against his chest. “Sleep now, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Left ear twitching, Seb rests where Chris has put him and snuggles into him. “Promise?”

“May the Patriots never win another superbowl.”

It’s a stupid thing to say, Chris knows it. But he can feel Sebastian smile against him and Chris’ll say all the stupid things that come to his mind for the rest of his life if it’ll put that smile on the most beautiful face in the world. 

“Now that,” Seb murmurs, already half asleep, “Would be a shame.”

Tears swell in Chris’s eyes as he lets out a soft chuckle. “God, I fucking love you so much.”

Seb answers as best he can. With another yawn and a nuzzle and a soft sound. A quiet, contented meow as he drifts back to sleep tucked in Chris’s arms and the promise Chris will never break. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! there will be another story added to this one which picks up a bit into Seb's recovery and the progress of their relationship.
> 
> check out the [awesomely angsty art](http://hopeless--geek.tumblr.com/post/141041166270/based-on-stuck-behind-the-moon-by) by [hopeless--geek](http://hopeless--geek.tumblr.com/)!!


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